Through and Through
by CallingMidnight
Summary: Harry Potter. The Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived. Voldemort's Downfall. All names of the boy who will decide it all. The boy that that will find Horcruxes, deal with pain beyond imaging, and find out something about his past he'll wish he'd never known.
1. Out of the Ordinary

**Disclaimer: If I owned all of this stuff, do you think I'd be sitting at home writing fanfiction?**

Author's note: Well, it's been awhile since I've written something new, so once I read the sixth book, I was completely re-inspired to write a seventh year story. But I need to make this clear: This has nothing whatsoever to do with any of my other stories. That said, I feel the need to remind you that I'm in love with reviews. So any kind of review is much appreciated. Well, except for the flaming. Those aren't really appreciated, so I'd restrain from doing that. But enough reading my pointless notes. Sit back and enjoy)

Rain droned relentlessly on the colorless grass as thunder and lightening took it in turn to call attention to the sky. Clouds bustled here and there, being dragged about by the rushing wind. Trees howled their approval, throwing their summer leaves into the air. Nobody would want to be caught in such a disastrous storm, especially as it was the dead of night. Yet one person remained as motionless as though he was part of the scenery. This particular person, a young man, sat stonily on a park bench, swaying only slightly when a particularly nasty gush of wind screamed past.

The boy on the bench was bereft of life, it seemed, as his emotionless green eyes looked downwards through his raindrop-covered glasses. His baggy tee-shirt now clung to him like a second skin, and his even baggier jeans were dark with water, and sagged across his knobby knees, slowly dripping water into his trainers.

The boy would have been perfectly normal looking, except for one, tiny little detail. Underneath the mop of soaked black hair was a small scar shaped like a lightening bolt, etched into his forehead. To any Muggle, this sign would have meant nothing. It was just an odd-shaped scar. But to the wizarding world, the world to which he belonged, it showed him as a god. A savior. Harry Potter. 

Harry Potter shifted slightly as rain dripped down his nose, and his eyes darted to the tree line. The sun would soon rise, and then his aunt and uncle would realize he had gone. Not that this would cause them any pain, however. No, he thought wryly. It would probably be the highlight of the Dursley's day to think that they might have rid themselves of, "that nasty boy." Harry could just picture in his mind's eye the look on his Uncle Vernon's face if he woke up to realize that his nephew had fled. His fat, flabby cheeks would turn bright pink with excitement, and he would laugh loudly, announcing it to the entire household and hugging his son, Dudley. Dudley would likely smile greedily, and ask at once for Harry's remaining possessions.

Harry's mind turned then to his last remaining relative, Aunt Petunia. At first he pictured her with a look of glee, her horsy face elongating in a big-toothed smile. But then he frowned…would she really be happy? Sure, years ago that would be the case…but now? Now he could almost see Aunt Petunia's face widening in fear. She would grow pale, perhaps, because she alone would know…. She alone would realize that if Harry had gone somewhere, it might have something to do with Lord Voldemort. Aunt Petunia, as prickly as she was, would know that meant danger.

Harry sighed finally, and rubbed his eyes as he peered down at his watch. It was half-past 12 in the morning. He stood up and stretched. He had no idea how long he had been sitting there on that bench, in a stupor, trying to think and stop himself from thinking at the same time. His mind's short jaunt towards the Dursley's was a nice break, though. It had been so long since he had been able to think about anybody other than…his heart wrenched. 

"Dumbledore," he muttered resentfully. A week. It had been a week since the horrible incident, and yet the look on his headmaster's face as he looked up at Severus Snape…begging…. Well, suffice it to say it would haunt Harry for the rest of his days. If only he could have freed himself from Dumbledore's binding spell! If only he'd had the sense to do something!

"There was no way you could have stopped it," he told himself for the hundredth time. "You were petrified!" and as if to finalize this, he pulled his hand out of his pocket, where it been clutching a small golden locket in a death-grip. It dangled in his hand, covering itself in small droplets of water from the rain, which seemed to taunt him savagely with each second. It was a fake…it wasn't the real Horcrux.

"Nothing I could have done…."

Yet the voice in his head persisted, and he continued to think up the things he should have done, even as he walked down the darkening Magnolia Crescent. He was reminded strictly of the last year, when he had sat in the park before, mourning a different death. The death of the closest thing to a parent he had ever had. His godfather, Sirius Black.

As he walked down the road, he looked around at the boring houses that contained boring people . What he wouldn't give to be one of those boring people, living life in total ignorance. How he ached to take his own wand and perform a memory charm on himself, make himself forget…everything.

"Oy!" called a voice from behind him. Harry ignored the voice, feeling numb. He heard gigantic footfalls as Dudley Dursley ran to catch up with him. "Hey! I called you. What, too good to answer me?"

Harry stopped walking, and so did Dudley. Their eyes met, and for a split second Harry waited for hatred and anger to bubble inside of him. He anticipated the wealth of ill-emotion he had for Dudley, but it didn't come. He struggled frantically to feel something…anything! He realized then that it didn't matter. He didn't care anymore. What was the point? Where would taunting Dudley get him? So instead of answering, he said nothing, looked towards the sky, and began walking again as though nobody had interrupted him.

"One of these days! I'm going to…" Dudley began, but Harry had stopped walking again. He heard Dudley stop behind him, and could sense the beady eyes on his back. He waited, still looking at the sky, but Dudley didn't finish his last sentence, and decided on a new tact. "What are you doing out so late?" he stuttered, unnerved.

"I'm out no later than you," Harry said blankly, now staring at the ground as the rain began to slow. Dudley gave a huff, but restrained from commenting out of fear.

"What are you up to? Using that…_stick_…?" Dudley said, whispering the last word. Harry said nothing. "Were you looking for somebody?" The question was greeted with silence. "Are you going to kill that evil wizard? What was his name? Voldermary?"

Harry finally felt something that might have been impatience, and turned abruptly, only to have his toes squashed, as Dudley seemed to have been following very close. "What is it you want? Why are you out so late looking for me?"

"I went into your bedroom, and you weren't there," Dudley said, and he looked very frightened now. Harry saw that his fat face was looking pale, and his piggy eyes were narrowed anxiously.

"What were you doing in my bedroom?" Harry asked, though this time there was some emotion. He was curious. Dudley shuffled his feet, though looked heartened that he had gotten at least some kind of reaction.

"I need to ask you…a question…" he whispered. Harry felt almost like laughing. This was the oddest meeting he'd ever had with Dudley. He gave a cruel half-smile instead.

"Alright, I can't admit that I haven't seen this coming," Harry said dryly. He gave a look of false wisdom, and sighed. "It's true, Dudley…"

Dudley's eyes widened in fear. "But…" he muttered.

"Yep," Harry said sadly. "Santa Clause doesn't exist." Dudley's face contorted in rage, and he gave a snarl. Harry considered him, though it didn't feel like he was looking through his old eyes. More like the eyes of a much older, wiser person. His heart clenched. He had never met anybody as old, or as wise, as Albus Dumbledore. All his fault….

"My mum, she's been crying a lot," Dudley said suddenly, and Harry looked up with his eyebrows raised. "I hear her all the time, when she thinks nobody's listening."

"I'd probably cry too, if I had you for a son…" Harry said, not finding this subject nearly as interesting as the concrete, and beginning to walk again.

"It's like she's arguing with herself or something," Dudley said stubbornly, jogging to keep up. Harry gave a resigned sigh, realizing that Dudley wasn't going to give up without a fight. And to be honest with himself, he was too tired to fight. He turned on his heels, and waited for him to finish. "She's scared of something. That guy you're looking for…. She keeps mentioning his name, and how she's uncertain about something. I think she's hiding something. _Magical_," Dudley uttered, his face draining completely of color. Harry raised his eyebrows in speculation.  
"Well, she grew up with my mum. So she's likely to know something about how scary Voldemort is, isn't she?" he said lightly. Dudley looked around cautiously, shaking his head.

"I think…" he stuttered. "I think she's one of _your_kind." There was a long silence in which Harry took in the preposterousness of this statement. He felt like belting out a heartless laugh, but ran his hands through his hair.

"She's not a witch, if that's what you mean," he said shortly. Again he began walking. Dudley rushed along beside him.

"But how would you know?" he asked, apparently getting angry over Harry's light tone of indifference. Harry gave a world-weary sigh. All of this would have fascinated him a month ago. He would have loved to speculate on Aunt Petunia. He would have eaten any information up that had to do with that. Now, however, all that mattered was…what? He didn't even know anymore. "How do you know?" Dudley repeated, bringing Harry back to life.

"Because I just know. When I went to my hearing last year, the Wizengamot told me that I was the only wizard in the area," Harry explained, as though he were talking to a baby. Dudley took on a very deflated look. "You don't seem very relieved," Harry observed.

"I am!" his cousin shouted a little too loudly. Harry stopped, seeing his piggy eyes shining in the moonlight.

"You're lying," he stated. He wasn't sure how he knew this…just that he knew. "Why would you want your mum to be a witch?" he asked sharply.

"I…dunno what you're talking about," Dudley said, walking fast now. For somebody who had just been keenly uninterested in this subject, Harry found himself following his cousin at top speed.

"Tell me," he demanded, standing in front of Dudley's mountainous form. 

"Those Demembers!" he finally exploded, looking crazed. "What were they? How did they know…." Harry was taken temporarily aback. He hadn't been expecting this. "And Voldemod! Who is he? Is he going to come and kill us all? He killed your parents to get to you…. What would stop him from killing us too?"

There was a pause, and Harry simply looked at his cousin. He had hardly thought Dudley capable of such thought. For somebody who absolutely despised all things magic, he had obviously spent a lot of time analyzing everything. There was a second when Harry considered keeping quiet and prolonging his agony. But as he stared into the fat face of his year-long enemy, he saw terror. 

"They were Dementors," Harry said, deciding to start from the beginning. He was about to explain further, when an idea struck him. Something he hadn't thought to ask his cousin since their last encounter with the ghastly creatures. "Dudley, what did you see when you met the Dementors?"

Dudley gave a little horrified grunt, and quivered. Harry had little patience, and repeated the question. Finally, Dudley opened his trembling mouth and muttered something. Harry frowned.

"What? I can't understand you," he said sharply. Dudley looked very much like an over grown child now, cowering pathetically.

"That man…" he whispered. Harry gave him an annoyed look, which prompted him to murmur, "The giant!"

"Hagrid?" Harry said, with a cold laugh. Dudley nodded vigorously. Harry, who had expected something a little more meaningful, rolled his eyes. "Alright, listen. Voldemort won't hurt you or your family, because your mum is my mum's sister. I'm not going into detail, so you're just going to have to trust me," Harry said quickly, as Dudley had opened his mouth to ask questions. The pair began walking again through Wisteria Walk. "Besides… he'll be gone soon anyways," Harry whispered.

"How?" Dudley asked, starting to look heartened now. Harry turned to look at him with a piercing stare.

"I'm going to kill him."

The rest of the walk was finished in silence, and the two didn't even acknowledge each other as both of them snuck back up to their rooms. Harry opened his door slowly as he heard Dudley's click shut. His brain was working slowly, haven gotten little or no sleep since his return to Privet Drive. He could scarcely believe he had just had an entire conversation with his cousin that didn't end, or begin, with a fight. As he walked across the carpeted floor to his desk, he thought about Aunt Petunia. Had she really been crying? Was she in fact sitting awake in bed, feeling as isolated as Harry was at this moment?

If she was, though, why should he care? Had she given him a thought when he was grieving over the death of Sirius? Had she offered him two words of sympathy when he had told her that Dumbledore had died? No. She hadn't. And with these thoughts boiling in his head, he reached into his pocket again, pulling out the small locket. Opening it for the hundredth time that week, he pulled out the now worn little piece of paper that had been folded so neatly inside of it.

_To the Dark Lord_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more._

R.A.B.

Who could that be? Harry thought to himself. It was the question that had plagued him for days. He had read and re-read the small note over and over again. He had read all of his school books over, hoping to find the name somewhere, no matter how insignificant. It was the first challenge in finding the rest of the four Horcruxes, something he had vowed to do. He would find them, and he would destroy Lord Voldemort. The only problem was that he only knew vaguely where one of them was. He was sure Nagini was one, and positive that she was with Voldemort himself. He decided to save that one until last, and just get rid of the snake right before he killed Voldemort. Two birds with one stone. 

Then, there was this locket that he still had to find, yet he had no idea where, although he was closer to finding this one than Hufflepuff's cup. How on earth was he supposed to discover its whereabouts? At least for the locket he had some sort of clue.

He knew, however, that the most difficult one to find would be the last one. At least the other's he knew what they were. He had no idea what the fourth one would be, except that it was most likely something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's. He was leaning more towards Ravenclaw, however, since Gryffindor's possessions are still at Hogwarts. Both the hat and the sword. So where would Voldemort hide something of Ravenclaw's? And what would it be?

He decided then to turn to the only resources he could. Ron, Hermione, and (he thought with a slight pang) Ginny. Heaving a sigh, he sat down at his desk and pulled parchment and quill towards him. After chewing on his lip for a second, he began to write:

_Dear Ron,_

How are you? I got your last package. Tell your mum that those pasties were delicious. I was wondering if you've had any ideas lately, about R.A.B. Or the Hufflepuff cup? I've deduced that the last Horcrux must be Ravenclaw's so if you know anything about that, let me know. Ask Ginny, too, if she knows anything. Tell Bill and Fleur that I'm looking forward to seeing them at the wedding in a few days. Best,

Harry

After rereading the letter, and then writing a similar one to Hermione, he set them on the desk, to await the return of Hedwig, who Harry had let out the following morning. Giving a great yawn, he looked mournfully out the window, noticing that the sun had risen almost completely now. He got into bed slowly as he heard people beginning to mill around in the hallway, announcing the awakening of his aunt and uncle.

He had barely closed his eyes when a knock reached his ears. He ignored it, however, and crushed his face into the pillow. The knock resounded again, and this time was followed by its opening. Harry bolted upright, and was shocked to see a bedraggled Aunt Petunia staring him in the face. Her scraggly hair was in a tight bun, and her eyes were owlish, clashing horribly with her horsy features. It was obvious that she'd just woken up, and almost as if she'd not gotten any sleep.

"What?" Harry snapped as Petunia entered the room and edged closer. Her face was working furiously, and it was hard to discern what she was thinking exactly. 

"Happy birthday," she hissed, as though a happy birthday was the last thing she wished him. Harry was glad he was lying down, as he was sure that, had he been standing, he would have fallen flat on his face in shock. Never before had she wished him a 'happy' birthday.

"Birthday?" he asked, nonplussed. He had completely forgotten. Yet Aunt Petunia seemed to have remembered. 

"You're an adult now," she whispered. Harry nodded, saying nothing. She edged closer. He watched her twitchily. Staring at the floor, she then said something that sent his senses reeling. "Are you g-going to k-kill him now?"

"What!" Harry gasped. She looked almost pleadingly at him.

"Voldemort," she hissed. "You're going to…." She couldn't seem to finish. She looked behind her, as though expecting to see Uncle Vernon standing there, his bushy mustache shaking in anger.

"Yeah," Harry said coldly.

"And…how…how are you going to do it?" she choked. Harry frowned.

"Why?"

"How?" she insisted. Harry shook his head.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," he snapped, getting out of bed. He was thoroughly alarmed now. It was as if she knew something….

"I think…" she whispered softly, but what she thought was not to be heard. The next second another woman entered his bedroom. Harry's bright green eyes widened. If there wasn't enough to cope with, now Professor McGonagall, the new headmistress of Hogwarts, stood in his doorway, her piercing eyes and slim lips more prominent than ever. 

"Potter," she said briskly, brushing Petunia aside. "Happy birthday." Again the sentiment was filled with less than sincerity. Her thin nose was rising in the presence of Aunt Petunia, who was now cowering in a corner.

"Uh, thanks," Harry said breathlessly. She gave a curt nod, and pulled out her wand.

"I'll be taking you to the burrow now, for the wedding," she explained, and with a swoop of her wand, Harry's things began to float neatly into a trunk that suddenly appeared from under Harry's bed. Aunt Petunia gave a shriek.

"What the bloody hell!" screamed a furious Uncle Vernon, who was puffing into the room, closely followed by Dudley, who quickly saw the scene, and left running away as soon as he had arrived.

"Good morning," McGonagall said tersely, her lips tightening in an even tighter line as she studied the large man.

"But Professor, the wedding isn't for three days," Harry said, uncertainly, his eyes darting around the strange scene before him. Mcgonagall…here? She hadn't even sent him a letter to warn him that she would be coming early. In fact, this was the first time he'd seen her since…. His throat clogged.

"I'm well aware of that," she said shortly, while the last few socks folded themselves strictly and dropped into the trunk. "Your owl?" she inquired, looking at the empty cage.

"She'll know where to find me," Harry assured her, even as she left his room. She gave a crisp nod, however, showing at least that she'd heard him.

"Now wait just a minute!" shouted a purple Uncle Vernon, who was hiding a fragile looking Petunia.

"I'm afraid I have no minute to spare for you," McGonagall snapped, gliding stiffly down the steps, with a dumbstruck Harry in her wake. Harry was growing agitated now, however. He wanted just once to leave this house without having the disapproving, disgusting looks on his distant family's faces. Couldn't they, just once, get used to the fact that he was Harry Potter, and therefore odd things were bound to happen? Vernon stomped down the steps.

"I demand to know where you're going!" he raged. Harry ignored him as McGonagall levitated his trunk and broomstick out the door and followed it. He began to leave with her, but was nearly jerked off his feet as a beefy hand grabbed the back of his shirt. "I will not stand it anymore!" he bellowed, spinning Harry around. "I will not stand for your kind running in and out of my house all the time! DESTROYING MY HOUSE, MY SANITY, AND MY FAMILY!"

Harry's eyes widened, and something in him finally snapped. Forgetting completely about the fact that his uncle was three times his weight, he stared him in the eye, and threw the sausage like fingers from his shirt. Then he did the one thing he'd wanted to do since he'd been old enough to dream. He grabbed Uncle Vernon by the throat, and slammed him up against the wall, his fury giving him strength.  
"You listen to me," he whispered vehemently. "I'm leaving this place and I'm never coming back. No more House-Elves, no more Dementors, no more gossip, and no more witches. I'm leaving, and I am _never_ coming back."

"I…" Vernon began.

"NO!" Harry screamed. He gave a laugh then at the look on his uncle's face, and let go of him, smiling cruelly. "I don't ever want to hear your voice again," he said. Then he looked up at the top of the steps, where Aunt Petunia was standing absolutely still. "Oh, but don't worry, Aunty Petunia. I didn't forget all you've done for me," he said with disgust clogging his throat. "I'll never forget the way you saved me by bringing me into your home and making my life a living hell." 

Harry didn't know what he'd done, or why he'd become suddenly so furious. But it was seventeen years of fury bubbling out in a way that Harry didn't think himself capable of anymore. Not when just s few hours ago he'd been as cold as a statue. But even with this sudden change from frozen to on fire, a great weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulders, and he took a deep breath. Before shame or guilt could settle in, he turned on his heel to see Dudley blocking his path to the door.

"Wait just a…?" Dudley began, looking furious, as though he was about to punch Harry. But Harry's cold eyes traveled Dudley's face, and his cousin's resolve seemed to fade.

"Don't-ask-questions," he said, and the three simple words echoed throughout the house as they had always done, yet this time with more importance than ever. None of the Dursleys reacted. Vernon didn't let out a roar of rage, but stared in shock. Aunt Petunia didn't glare or give a haughty sniff, but looked quite blankly down at him. Dudley moved to the side, a stupid look draped across his fat face. Harry was both relieved and empowered, and his feeling of finally being through with this family completed him. He took the necessary steps forward, out of the house he promised never to set foot in again.


	2. Professor Potter

As Harry walked outside of the house, he spotted Professor McGonagall looking quite out of place as she stood sternly with her hands clasped behind her back. Yet she looked more relaxed than she had been in the house. It was as if a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders. Now, in fact, Harry could have sworn that her lips twitched in what was, for her, a smile.

Harry quickly averted his gaze, and went to pick up his trunk and broom. He wasn't sure how much McGonagall had heard of his row with the Dursleys, but now his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. The feeling of misuse and maltreatment had just escaped from him, and he left it all behind him in that house. Yet he wondered if he shouldn't have just held it in. Was it really worth it in the end? Then, however, a voice floated to him with such strength he felt dizzy…

" i> It is your ability to feel such emotions that sets you apart from Lord Voldemort…" /i>

Dumbledore. Dumbledore had told him that nearly two years ago.

"Feeling better, Harry?" McGonagall intruded, softening her voice with the use of his first name. He looked up to see her actually smiling now. More than he'd ever seen her smile, at least. He couldn't help but give a sheepish grin. "I should think you've quite terrified them."

"Yeah," he admitted with a shrug. "Sorry about that."

McGonagall raised a brow. "Are you now?" Harry searched her gaze, and couldn't help but grin.

"Not really," he admitted. Then he frowned as though just now realizing she had appeared unexpectedly at his house. "Professor, why…."

"I've come early," she explained unnecessarily. "There was something I needed to ask you." Harry's eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Though I think we shall talk as we walk along, if you don't mind," she sniffed, looking over Harry's shoulder. He turned, and was amused to see all of the Dursleys with their noses pressed against the glass, making sure of their departure. Upon being noticed, however, they scrambled away like roaches in sunlight.

"Of course," Harry said with a snort, walking briskly along with her. She waited until they had begun down the lane, and were far from ear-shot of the Dursleys to begin.

"You see, Hogwarts has found itself in a rather…difficult predicament, I'm sure you understand," she said, giving him a side-ways glance to catch him turning pale. He gave a short nod, while his throat tightened.

This all reminded him too much of last year, when he had walked along with Dumbledore. As he had walked with the old man, however, he had never considered the fact that he would soon be mourning his death The thought that Dumbledore could be defeated would have made him laugh. The old man's unwavering presence had instilled a certain belief that he was immortal…invincible.

"Yes, well," McGonagall said abruptly, pulling him through time and space. "I'm sure you understand that not only are we in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but I'm afraid Mr. Slughorn decided at the time of the attack that it was best to flee."

"Of course," Harry muttered, as the words slipped through his mind full of little meaning. What did he care? He wasn't going back to Hogwarts anyways. Then he thought of something and turned to her. "Wait…does that mean you're going to be Headmistress i and /i Transfiguration teacher?"

"I have little choice, Harry," she said, stopping. Harry stopped too, frowning.

"No choice?" he asked, confused. "Why not get somebody else?"

"Potter!" she said briskly, using his surname in her frustration. "The school was just attacked by Death-Eaters! People were killed and badly injured! Nobody wants to take the job. They're saying the entire school is cursed now, haven't you been reading the papers?"

"Yes," Harry said defiantly. She gave him a crestfallen look.

"Less than half of the students are returning," she said dejectedly, shaking her head.

"Then why re-open the school?" he asked savagely. "What's the point?"

"The point, Harry, is that Hogwarts is a school that is open to anybody willing to learn. Not only has Durmstrang shut down, but Beauxbaton would have a long time ago if it hadn't been for Hagrid. He persuaded Madame Maxine, you see," she explained after seeing his puzzled expression. "There i is /i a point, Harry. Even if you don't see it yet," she said softly, beginning to walk again. Harry ran to catch up after a second's reminiscence.

"Alright, fine. There's a point. So why are you telling me this? I'm not coming back. I've explained this to you. There are things more important than going to school…"

"There is NOTHING more important than keeping Hogwarts alive!" she said vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulders. Harry's eyes took in a sight he thought never to see. This was definitely turning out to be the most bizarre day in his life. There was such pain in McGonagall's eyes, he was surprised there weren't tears in them. Her long-held composure seemed to crumble in those few seconds that they stared at each other. "It's all that we have left of him…."

Pain erupted in the pit of Harry's stomach slowly at first, until finally it clawed its way up to his throat, lodging there for what seemed like hours. He moved out of Professor McGonagall's shaky grasp and ran a troubled hand over his scar.

"I have to destroy Lord Voldemort. I can't come to school," he said regretfully. "Look, I would really love to. Don't you think I'd rather do homework than go out and most-likely get myself killed?"

McGonagall shook her head twitchily. "I'm not asking you to come and do homework. I'm asking you to teach."

Silence.

"What!" he gasped. He hadn't expected this.

"I'm asking you to teach Defense Again the Dark Arts, Harry."

"No!" he said, stepping back even further. "Professor! I'm only seventeen! It's most-likely against the law!"

"It's not. You're of age," she corrected sternly. "You've taught students before! Don't pretend you didn't. And did a good job, by the look of everybody's O.W.L.'s! I dare say you're the only reason most of them passed."

"I can't, Professor…"

"I know you have things to deal with. But teaching two or three classes a day won't be too bad. And when there is a time when you must leave, so be it. But I have to have something to tell the Ministry. i> Something /i> !" she hissed.

"If I need to leave in the middle of the year…" he said uncertainly.

"You may do so," she interrupted.

"What about Potions? Who will teach that?"

"It has been taken care of," she said strictly, and offered no further answer. "If you don't accept, the Ministry will shut Hogwarts down, Potter."

"No pressure, eh?" Harry asked wryly. McGonagall did not seem to find the comment amusing, and instead stared pointedly at him, her eyes narrowed slightly. Harry wasn't quite sure what to do. Maybe he could find some answers at Hogwarts. He could look in the restricted section of the library. Maybe he could ask some of the ghosts for advice…. The thing that stood out most prominently, however, was the fact that he would be able to be with his friends. "Would I need to take classes?"

"That is up to you, Potter," she said, pursing her lips. "But, there are the N.E.W.T.'s to consider."

"Yeah, if I live that long," Harry muttered under his breath. Still McGonagall didn't answer, but awaited a response to her question. "Fine," Harry finally said.

"Good," McGonagall, and though her face remained the same, her posture seemed to slacken slightly. "Please take my arm, and I'll guide you to the Burrow." Harry stepped towards her, and took her bony arm. In seconds he felt the uncomfortable sensation of Apparating, though he seemed to have grown accustomed to it, as it wasn't as bad as the last time. The next thing Harry knew, he was standing outside a huge, slightly slanting house. "When I write out the book lists, I'll need to know your book preference. For teaching your class," she added at his confused expression.

"Erm…" Harry thought for a second. What book would be good for teaching Defense? A book he had noticed in the Room of Requirement came to mind suddenly. He had used it for reference a few times while teaching the DA. "A Simple Guide to Complex Spells, by Waldo Wears. He doesn't just go into spells, he helps with the mindset you need for a fight. A defensive fight, that is," Harry amended. McGonagall nodded.

"A good choice," she said approvingly.

"Yeah. Are you coming?" Harry asked, turning back to the Burrow and feeling as if two anvils had been placed upon each of his shoulders. McGonagall shook her head.

"No," she said. "I've got some business to attend to. Before we part, however, I have yet another question."

Harry's face toughened, wondering what horrible things he'd be asked to do next. Not only did he have to find four Horcruxes, defeat Lord Voldemort, and live through it all, but now he had to be a teacher? Resigned for the worst, he braced himself.

"I wasn't sure if you had enough on your plate already, but I thought I'd give you the option…. Would you like to be Head Boy?" she asked, looking rather amused at his expression.

"Er…" he murmured, taken off guard. "No…thanks."

She nodded briskly. "I thought as much. Well, you've just made Ernie MacMillan a happy young man, I'm certain," she said with a small shake of her head. "I'm assuming you'll want me to pick a new Quidditch Captain as well?"

"Yeah…yeah definitely," he said, frowning slightly. Quidditch. He had completely forgotten about it. That was one thing he would definitely miss.

"I'm afraid that if your presence at the school will not be determinable, I can't allow you on the team," she said, reading his face.

"I understand," he said solemnly, then looked up as a hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked up surprised. McGonagall was looking at him with a harsh pride he saw only on rare occasions.

"Goodbye, Harry," she said briskly, giving him an approving nod. "And good luck." With that, she vanished without a trace, and Harry was left to stare at the tree line. He was just about to turn around when familiar voices met his eager ears.

"Alright, they're done talking Hermione!" came Ron's, his best friend's, voice. "Now can we go and say hi?"

"There is no need to take that tone! I'm sure they wanted their privacy!" said Hermione, as Harry turned around.

"Now, now, children," Ginny said, coming last out of the house and looking withdrawn. The next thing Harry saw was a large amount of bushy brown hair as Hermione threw her arms around him in a crushing hug.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said with a laugh, hugging her back. "How long have you been here?"

"Actually…I've not been home yet," she said with a blush, and an odd look at Ron. "My parents understand. What with a war going on and all…." But before Harry could inquire further, or think on the odd look she had shared with Ron, her face was replaced by Ron's, who slapped him on the back.

It seemed his height had stayed mercifully the same, and his pale, freckly face was smiling, though it was a probing smile, as though gouging his feelings. Harry gave his best smile, trying to reassure them all.

"How've you been, mate?" Ron asked, and then suddenly seemed to regret this question, knowing that the answer was probably troubling. "I mean, well did you have a good…" he broke off, looking around for inspiration. "Look! There's Ginny!" he said, pointing at Ginny in an attempt to take the attention from himself. Harry needed no pointing, or advice to look at Ginny. He stared at her with an intensity that made his mouth dry. Uncertainty wavered in the air like a thick, suffocating fabric.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny said warmly, a strained smile on her face. It was a brave attempt at normality, but a feeble one, all the same. Harry gave a nod, his lungs having decided not to work.

"So…Harry…" Hermione said, nudging Ron slightly. She was obviously trying to think of some distracting conversation. Ron became very unhelpful, however, when he looked around at everybody and then whispered, "Oh…."

"How's your mum and dad?" Harry finally asked, looking between Ginny and Ron.

"Oh, you know! The usual," Ron said. "Well…actually mum's been a little out of sorts."

"Why's that?" Harry asked, frowning. Both Ron and Ginny shifted uncomfortably, with Hermione looking between them anxiously.

"Well, after Dumbledore…" Ginny began. She cleared her throat. "Well, Percy decided that that proved everything. He said all Dumbledore's ideas and stuff is the reason he's…well…not with us anymore," she whispered.

"WHAT?" Harry roared in outrage. Percy Weasley, Ginny and Ron's elder brother, had always been a bit of a prat. He was one of those that believed whatever the Daily Prophet printed about himself and Dumbledore. Now that the Daily Prophet was on Harry's side, he figured so would Percy.

"I know," Ron said murderously. "But you saw him last year, when he came around with the Minister of Magic! He wanted nothing to do with us!"

"I'll never understand him," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Oh, but Harry! I've got the most wonderful news!"

"Yeah?" Harry said, quite in need of some good news.

"Do you know, Stan Shunpike?" she asked, smiling. Harry nodded for her to continue. "They've let him go!"

"Are you serious?" Harry said, unable to stop himself from stealing a glance at Ginny's expression. She was looking hopefully at him, hoping this might cheer him up. For her sake, he gave a huge smile.

"Apparently they couldn't find i> anything /i> else to suggest he was a Death Eater," Ron said with a snort.

"That's great, really great," Harry muttered, not really following the conversation, all of his attention focused on i not /i looking at Ginny. A silence followed this. Finally Ron gave a sigh.

"So, what did old McGonagall have to say?" he asked uncertainly, wondering whether he was being too nosy.

"Is Hogwarts closing?" Ginny asked hurriedly. Harry finally met her gaze, and shook his head.

"No, it's going to stay open," he said sluggishly. Then gave a dry laugh, "Oh, and you might want to start calling me Professor Potter," he said amusedly. The others exchanged glances, not getting the joke. "I'm going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a collective silence, and then everybody broke into excited chatter.

"Harry, that's wonderful!" squealed Hermione.

"It's just going to be like the DA!" Ginny said enthusiastically.

"Way to go!" gushed Ron, with yet another slap on the back. Harry shook his head.

"I'm not going to be able to teach some of the time, though. I'll be looking for Horcruxes," he said, whispering the last bit. "Hey, did you guys get the letters I sent you?"

"What letters?" Ron asked. Then Harry remembered something, and slapped a hand to his forehead. The letter! He had never sent it! It must be still sitting on his desk at Number 4. He gave a groan. What would Aunt Petunia do if she found it? Most likely throw it in the garbage without a glance, he hoped. He felt relieved at this thought, and decided to push it out of his mind as he began to walk up the steep hill towards the Burrow with his three best friends in tow.


	3. A Risk Worth Taking

"For the hundredth time, Harry!" sighed Hermione in irritation, "I don't know who R.A.B. is! And to be quite honest I think you're being a little obsessive about it!"

Harry frowned. Obsessive was a light term for Harry's new-found hobby of brooding for hours about the Horcruxes. The fact that it had already been a week since Dumbledore's departure and Harry _still_ hadn't had any luck with a Horcrux was eating him alive. Every second that didn't have to do with finding Voldemort and destroying him was a second wasted, in Harry's opinion. Now things like food, sleep, and even friendly conversation were pointless. The past two days he'd spent in the Burrow had done little to lift his spirits, as he had hoped. Instead, seeing his friends happy made him all the more determined to fight to keep them that way, though the fact that they were now able to do magic out of school definitely made a difference.

Harry had expected life to suddenly become a lot easier once he'd turned seventeen. He imagined never having to lift a finger again, because he could simply do whatever he needed with his wand. That didn't necessarily work out all the time, though. For instance, being able to summon things across the room was convenient, but by the time he had hit Ron, Hermione, and Ginny with a few objects as they zoomed towards him, he realized that it was really much easier to just get up and get it himself.

Realizing that Hermione had been waiting for a response, he brought his gaze away from the morning sunlight streaming through an open window to her anxious face.

"Listen, Hermione, it's the only way I can destroy Voldemort," he said resolutely, slowly bringing his thoughts back to their earlier conversation.

"Well, sometimes when I'm working on an essay, I find it necessary to take a break, otherwise I get stressed and it shows in the essay. Maybe if you take a step back, the answers will come to you," she said lightly before going back to her book.

"Somehow I don't think writing an essay and saving the world are quite the same thing," Ginny said, who was currently sitting on Ron's bed playing with Arnold, the Pygmy Puff. Hermione shrugged.

"I think Hermione's got a point," Ron said, uncharacteristically defending her. She blushed crimson at this realization. Ron blushed too, though gave a grin. Harry and Ginny shared a look they found themselves sharing more and more over the past two days. It was a look of amusement, mixed with a slight bit of jealousy.

It had finally happened, Harry decided. Though he had known it for quite sometime, Hermione and Ron had finally realized that they were meant for each other. His fears that things would be different around him were somewhat right, though not to an unbearable extent. In fact, it could hardly be called a change. The only difference was the occasional awkward silence, like this one, and every now and then they could be caught holding hands or some other absurd gesture of affection.

Each time Harry saw something like that, his eyes always seemed to twist the scene around so that instead of Ron and Hermione holding hands, or sharing an affectionate glance, it was Ginny and himself. His heart clenched at the unfairness of it all. But he knew in his heart that distancing himself from Ginny as much as possible was necessary to keep her safe.

"Harry?" Hermione interjected. Harry looked up quickly, but not before catching Ginny's gaze again. She was looking forlorn, as though she knew what he was thinking.

"Yeah, I agree," he said automatically. He stood up.

"Harry, what…"

"I'm going to go and have some breakfast," and without looking again at Ginny, he stormed from the room, breathing hard. Living in the same universe without her was bad enough, but in the same house? He massaged his scar, as it twinged slightly. He ignored it, as always, and went down the steps into the kitchen two at a time.

"Harry dear!" said a beaming Mrs. Weasley. She bustled over to him, having lost more weight than ever. One could almost call her skinny. Her cheeks were pink from the heat of the stove she had previously been hovering over. "I trust you slept well?"

"Yeah, yeah fine, thanks," he said, noticing that they weren't the only ones in the room. Remus Lupin was sitting at the wooden kitchen table looking gaunt and destitute. His ragged clothes were made even more so by the worn look on his world-weary face. He pasted a grin on his lips and gave Harry a nod.

"Morning, Harry," he said sleepily. Harry sat down across from him. "How've you been handling everything?" Harry knew what he was really asking about and gave a shrug. He didn't want to think about Dumbledore, as cruel as it sounded.

"Nothing I haven't been through before," he said rather harshly. The kitchen grew silent, and Harry regretted those words. "I'm doing fine," he amended quickly, "you?"

"Oh, you know…" Lupin said, taking a large swig of coffee instead of answering. The truth was that Harry _didn't_ know, though he dared not ask. "I hear you're more than just a student at Hogwarts, this year," he said, his eyes twinkling somewhat.

"Yeah," Harry said, as Mrs. Weasley sent a plate and fork zooming out of the cupboard and onto the table in front of him.

"If you ever need any pointers on teaching, let me know," he said comfortingly. "Though I'm sure you've been through much more than I have…. Most likely still more to come, too. McGonagall says you won't be able to teach there full time. She says you'll be busy."

"Yeah. Yeah that's true," Harry muttered, a slight blush creeping up his face. He had never felt more isolated. He hadn't told Mrs. Weasley or Lupin about the Horcruxes, yet he was reminded of that fact every time they looked curiously at him. They never asked the question out loud, but there could be no doubting their wanting to know. "Where's Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked Mrs. Weasley, trying to stave off Lupin's suspicious stare.

"Oh, here and there," she said lightly, flouncing over and pouring bits of bacon and eggs onto his plate. Harry took that to mean he was doing something for the Order, and didn't question her further. "But don't worry. He'll be here in time for the wedding tomorrow."

"About that, Molly," Lupin said nervously. "I don't think-"

"You're coming, Remus," Mrs. Weasley said sternly, before he could finish. She was now gazing at him with a pointed stare, and Harry found himself unsure of what it was all about. Why didn't Lupin want to go to the wedding?

"She won't want to come with me…" he said, shaking his head. Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips in exasperation.

"She's told you a hundred times, Remus! She loves you for who you are!" she said impatiently, brandishing a spatula at him. When Lupin still looked unsure, she gave a sigh. "You don't have to go _with_ her as a date, but at least come. Bill would be crushed if you didn't!"

Lupin seemed to be thinking this over, but finally gave a resigned nod. "Of course…. Of course I'll be there," he said, almost sounding ashamed of himself. Then he became aware of Harry staring intensely at the pair of them, trying to understand their cryptic conversation. His cheeks reddened, and he took another large gulp of coffee, and began to choke on it. "Alright, Molly. I'll be off now. See you…at the wedding," he coughed, standing up abruptly. "Harry," he said in a rushed farewell, and before Harry could reply, he was out the door.

"What was all that about?" Harry asked, nonplussed. Mrs. Weasley gave a small smile.

"Tonks," she explained. Harry gave a sound of realization.

"She won't go with him, as his date?" he asked.

"Just the opposite!" Mrs. Weasley said shaking her head. "Eat up," she added, noticing Harry still hadn't touched his food. He quickly stuffed an entire sausage into his mouth.

"Why?" he asked through a mouthful of food. Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly, and then tilted her head to the side, beginning to consider. "Remus really doesn't believe himself worthy of her. Because he's a werewolf. He thinks she would be miserable with him."

"But if she's already told him, shouldn't he understand?" Harry said confused. Mrs. Weasley shrugged and turned back to her cooking.

"That's what we've been telling him! He refuses to listen," she said simply. "Oh well, maybe the wedding tomorrow will bring him to his senses. I think everything will turn out quite well, don't you know. Bill's ecstatic." She seemed eager to be off the subject of Lupin and Tonks, and Harry decided not to push it.

"Uh, where will this wedding be?" he said, surprised he hadn't asked that the moment he'd seen Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, well it's going to be outside of this lovely little cottage. I've only seen pictures mind you, as it's quite a distance away. But really lovely, yes. Fleur's parents are arranging everything, thank goodness," she said with a small laugh.

"Will my green dress-robes be appropriate, do you think?" Harry asked uncertainly having never been to a wedding, let alone a wizard one.

"Oh, they're fine. In fact, I've got them all ready to be ironed, with the other's," she said, but gave a screech and leapt back from the stove. Harry jumped up, his wand out, but found that his only threat was a large grey bird was now lying in the pan of sizzling bacon.

"Accio owl," Harry said, and the owl quickly flew from the pan into his outstretched hand. He gave a small laugh as the bird looked blearily up at him. He recognized it as the Weasley's old and nearly unreliable bird, Errol. There were four letters in his beak, and Harry relieved the creature of them quickly, and set the bird on the table.

"Poor thing," Mrs. Weasley said, shaking her head. "I wish we could get another one, but money is so tight these days…" she trailed off. "Those will be your Hogwarts Letters, I suppose?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered blandly, taken aback by the jerky, rigid handwriting of Professor McGonagall. He would never see Dumbledore's loopy, artistic letters again. He took the one addressed to him and shoved it in his pocket. "I'll just…I'll just give these to the others…" he said stiffly, and was quite aware of Mrs. Weasley's pitying glance on his retreating back as he hurried up the steps.

Passing down the hallways, he went into Ron's bedroom, where he had last seen them all, and without knocking, pushed open the door. His eyes widened at the sight that met his eyes. The room was not filled with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's animated chatting, but complete and total silence except for a particular slurping noise that Harry crinkled his nose at.

Either Ron and Hermione had had their worst fight yet and had finally decided to settle the match by biting each other's faces off, or they were encompassed in a compassionate kiss. Harry was leaning towards the latter. They both looked over at the sound of the door hitting the opposite wall.

"Uhhh…er…well, I'll just be in the other room…then…" Harry said uncertainly. Then he gave a huge blink and shut the door as though against a heard of rhinos. He walked silently into Ginny's room, where she was sitting on her bed, staring blankly at the wall with the same horrified expression Harry wore. He sat beside her.

"I suppose you found them, too?" she asked without looking over.

"Yeah," Harry said with a nod.

"Unexpected?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna kiss me?"

"Yeah," Harry said the word without thinking. Then he looked over at her, and saw her staring intently at him. "Yeah…" he repeated, except this time with a longing in his voice. Slowly they were leaning towards each other, and it took all of Harry's self-control to pull away. "NO!"

"What?" Ginny said, surprised. Harry threw his head in his hands, breathing deeply.

"We can't! They'll find out…they'll hurt you because of _me_!" he whispered. Ginny took his hands away from his face.

"Nobody will know, Harry," she whispered. Harry closed his eyes, still shaking his head.

"There is only one person in the world I care about more than anything else," he whispered, looking around as though expecting to see a Death Eater with his ear pressed against the window. "That person is you, Ginny. You are the key to my destruction."

Ginny gave a sigh and sat back. "You really know how to charm a girl," she said. "I think that's the first time I've been called the key to somebody's destruction."

"Well, it's not a good thing, trust me," Harry said dryly. Ginny nodded, and they sat there in silence for a long time. Neither looked at the other, but was content to be in each other's presence.

"So I guess I should go now?" Ginny asked softly. Harry nodded.

"I guess you should," he said through gritted teeth. Ginny stood up slowly, but before she made it to the door, Harry's head shot up. He couldn't help it. He had to have her.

"I'm leaving now," Ginny said, even as she walked towards him. Harry stood up from the bed and met her in the middle. He wrapped his arms hungrily around her waist, pulling her closer. Ginny, meanwhile, made good use of her hands by trailing her fingers through his unruly black hair.

"You should definitely leave," Harry said, slightly out of breath, yet he pressed his mouth against hers once more.

"I couldn't agree more," Ginny answered, driving her lips and tongue a little too expertly. Hours must have passed before finally Harry had the sense to pull away. Breathing deeply, he shared a grin with Ginny. He couldn't help it; he leaned in for one more, chaste kiss, though he shook his head.

"That was a mistake," he whispered looking down into her shining face. "That should never happen again…."

"Never?" Ginny asked with a small smile. Harry couldn't help but return it.

"Are you quite finished?" said Ron's voice from the door. Both Ginny and Harry spun around. Ron and Hermione had pushed the door open in a reenactment of Harry's earlier mistake. They all looked around uncomfortably, until finally they all burst into gales of laughter. Before long the room was filled with eye rolling, blushes, and electricity.

"Here, I've got our Hogwarts letters," Harry said, handing them out. As he did so, he noticed that his and Ron's were slightly larger than Hermione's or Ginny's. He opened it and read:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_You have been accepted into the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Your ability to teach and maintain classes will determine the scores of both O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s. The job of a teacher therefore must not be taken lightly, which is why it has been placed in your worthy hands. Your teaching days will include Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays. Since there is a shortage of students this year, you will be teaching many double-classes, in which same-year students of different houses will attend the same lessons. An exact schedule of these classes can be found on a separate piece of paper. I look forward to our next meeting at the beginning of September. Sincerely_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Headmistress _

Harry searched through the envelope, and pulled out another piece of parchment. Just like the previous letter had said, it was his teaching schedule. His stomach tightened up slightly at the thought of teaching, not only Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs, but Slytherins. After disregarding this parchment, he noticed that there was still something left in the envelope. Pulling it out, he began to read again:

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_It has come to our attention that you have recently come of age in our wizarding world. You, therefore, will be required to take an Apparition skills test at 2:00, on the 23rd of August. You will need no equipment, only a parent/guardian and a certificate of birth. To find a location nearest you, please contact our friendly staff members at fireplace 220 of the "In a Snap" Apparition License Bureau. We will receive your owl no later than the 13th. Best Wishes_

_Hester Johanson,_

_Head of Apparition Testing_

Harry had barely finished reading it, than an excited squeal met his ears. He looked up quickly at Hermione, who was holding a large badge in her head with the inscription, "Head Girl," written on it in gold.

"Big surprise," Ron muttered, though he was smiling.

"Oh, I can't believe it! This is so wonderful!" Hermione cooed. Then her eyes snapped to Harry. "Harry…did you get…are you…"

"I'm not Head Boy, if that's what you mean. Ernie MacMillan is, though," he informed a crestfallen Hermione. Both Ron and Ginny looked affronted.

"McGonagall didn't make you Head Boy!" Ginny said in outrage. "After all that stuff you've done!"

"She offered it," Harry said quickly. "I declined!"

"You…declined?" Hermione gasped, as though she couldn't understand how it was humanly possible for him to do this. Harry shrugged.

"Hermione, not only do I have to find those Horcruxes, but I'm a teacher now too!" he said exasperatedly. Her eyes brightened as she remembered he was a teacher.

"I suppose it would be a little overwhelming," she admitted. "Still, nice to know you could have been had you wanted, isn't it?" she asked comfortingly. Harry nodded.

"I suppose so," he said. "Hey, did you get your Apparition notice?" he asked Ron, who he remembered had failed his last test. Ron turned pink and nodded. Harry noticed Ginny hiding a smile.

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped suddenly, looking at the envelope Ginny had set aside. Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"What is it?" she asked, taking the envelope and looking at it. Hermione snatched it from her and emptied its contents. A Prefect's badge fell into her hands. They all looked at Ginny. "What?" she said defensively.

"Way to go, Ginny!" Harry said warmly. Ginny frowned.

"Not really," she said grouchily, taking the badge from Hermione's hands and stuffing it in her pocket. "Now not only do I have to deal with O.W.L.s, but I have to be Prefect along with it!" she huffed. Hermione looked as though she couldn't believe her ears, and that made Harry smile.

"Well, I'm going to go and owl my parents. They'll be so happy for me!" Hermione said before dashing out of the room. Ginny gave Harry a meaningful look and smiled.

"I'd best go show mum. It'll make her day," she said with a resigned voice, and followed Hermione out. Ron and Harry were left alone, and for a few seconds they sat in silence.

"So…" Ron said uncomfortably, and they were both thinking the same thing. "How much did you…see?" he asked. Harry looked over at him, and knew he meant his walking in on him and Hermione's interlude.

"Enough," Harry said with a rueful grin. Then he looked slowly at Ron. "And…how much did you see?"

Ron chewed his lip for a second, and stood up. Just when Harry thought Ron was going to ignore the question, he turned and gave a chuckle.

"Enough," he assured.


	4. Happy Wedding Day

The next morning dawned bright and sunny. Excitement buzzed through the house like a hundred bees. Harry's head swam in and out of sleep as cheery voices floated to him, until he was finally fully awakened by something being thrown over his head. He jerked up quickly, looking around and pulling a large piece of fabric from his face.

"Wake up, Harry!" said Hermione's cheery voice. "You too, Ron!"

"Wha'?" said Ron's sleep-coated voice. "Why?"

"The wedding!" Hermione said, as Harry noticed that the piece of fabric was actually his dress-robes. He rubbed eyes with the heels of his hands and pulled on his glasses. Hermione was wearing a very floral, white outfit that looked pretty much like a long-sleeved medieval gown. She was hurriedly twirling her hair around her wand as she looked at them, leaving the tendrils to drip over her shoulder in the curls she created.

Ron, who was staring at her as though he'd never seen a girl properly, made no move to get out of bed. Harry, on the other hand, merely grinned and stood up. Looking around, he pulled on his glasses.

"When are we leaving?" he asked, finally breaking the silence. Hermione leapt on the opportunity.

"As soon as the car gets here," she said, moving towards Ron's dresser and starting to pull out his dress-robes for him. Harry gave pause, looking around.

"The car? Why? We can just Appa-" Harry began.

"You don't have a license," Hermione interrupted reprovingly.

"I Apparated when I was with Dumbled…" Harry broke off. Ron looked over, out of his trance. Clearing her throat, Hermione threw Ron's sleek black robes at him.

"Mrs. Weasley thinks it's best if we just play things safe. If you were to get caught, things could be drastic," she said with a sniff, not meeting any of their eyes.

"Drastic?" Ron said, finally throwing the covers off his bed and running his fingers through his hair. "This is the "Chosen One" we're talking about. He could murder somebody and no one would care."

"That's not funny, Ron," Hermione said over Harry's laughter as he left to change into his robes. His smile remained on his face, even as he passed the narrow hallways, which were strangely quiet. If Harry hadn't known better, he might have thought that Hermione had made a mistake, and that the wedding wasn't really today. Reaching the bathroom, he noticed that the door was closed, and was about to knock when an ominous sound met his ears.

Sniffling. Somebody was crying. Wishing he had one of Fred and George's Extendable Ears, he laid the side of his head to the door, guilt squirming in his chest.

"Idiot!" he heard an enraged voice hiss. "Stubborn, callous….heartless!" with each word, the voice grew louder, and Harry still couldn't place it.

"Harry?" said a new voice that nearly made him leap out of his skin. He turned and saw Ginny standing there, looking extraordinarily pretty in her lavender robes, with her hair braided down her back. He heard instant shuffling behind the bathroom door, and knew whoever was in there was coming out.

"Shit," Harry whispered.

"Harr-" Ginny began again, frowning, but Harry clamped a hand over her mouth and pulled her around the corner just as the door opened. For a few seconds, silence and stillness reigned complete, the whole time Harry was aware of Ginny's sweet, flowery scent. Then, in time with his sigh of relief, footsteps broke out down the hallway, walking in the opposite direction. He took the chance and stuck his head out the doorway in time to see Tonks's mousy-brown hair whip out of sight.

His mind worked at full-speed. Why was Tonks crying? And who was she calling all those names? Could she perhaps be talking about Lupin? Had he really refused to go to the wedding? Or had he just refused to go with her? He gave a long sigh, and couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Lupin really did need to come to his senses. Sure, he was trying to protect her, but the fact was that they were both obviously in love, and there was very little to do about it. It was inevitable.

"Harry!" Ron's voice cracked around the corner. Harry leapt out of his skin for the second time that day, and remembered too that he still had Ginny pinned to the wall. He let go of her with such force that she nearly toppled over. "What…why…?" Ron spluttered, and Harry quickly realized what it must have looked like from Ron's point of view.

Ginny realized what he thought too, and began laughing. Harry couldn't help but grin. Ron frowned even more severely.

"What the bloody hell!" he raged. Harry shook his head.

"Come on, I've got to tell you what I just saw," he said dismissively, walking away with a last quick grin at Ginny. She stood there smiling for a few seconds, watching her brother spluttering crazily after Harry. The smile soon faded, however, for even she knew that, once they were in school, surrounded by so many potential spies, the two of them would have no choice but to pretend that things had ended between them.

Nearly an hour later, a large white van pulled up a narrow, gravel drive. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all settled comfortably, looking around rather nervously. The only one of them that had ever been to a wedding had been Hermione, and she was rather prone to spouting bits of pieces of her experiences to a group that really couldn't have cared less. Only Ron made an effort to pretend to listen, perhaps feeling obligated. Finally, however, after a particularly long and drawn out description of the, "…wonderful dancing-it was so romantic-" he gave a loud, meaningful yawn.

"Am I boring you?" Hermione asked, snippily. Ron turned to her slowly.

"More than you'll ever know," he said. She glared at him, and then turned with a huff toward the window.

"Alright everyone, we're here!" Mr. Weasley said from the passenger seat, opening the van door with some difficulty. And though he had a perfectly convincing smile on his face when he thanked the driver, Harry was sure he heard him mutter, "Damn Ministry. Next time we're Apparating. Legal or not!"

"Here here," Harry, Ron and Ginny muttered under their breaths. They all looked at Hermione who blushed.

"You don't have your licenses!" she said indignantly.

"This way, dears," Mrs. Weasley said, getting out of the car as well and ushering them along.

Harry took his time to look around now as Hermione and Ron began to argue about Apparating. Their van was slowly pulling out of a rather quaint driveway. They were now heading towards some very cozy looking white gates, with large purple flowers climbing up the bars towards the bright, sunny sky. Harry could hardly have suggested a better day to have a wedding. It wasn't too hot, or too cold, and the blue sky was dabbed here and there with soft white clouds, as though placed there by a talented artist.

Before they reached the gates, they creaked slightly, and Harry stopped with Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Mrs. and Mr. Weasley. Nobody moved, and Harry looked around uncertainly. The only other person that seemed to be concerned with the fact that nobody was opening the gates was Hermione.

"Er…shouldn't we go in?" she asked tentatively.

"Of course we'll go in!" Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. Harry started to move forward, but when nobody else followed his movements, he froze.

"What…?" he began, but then a voice broke out from out of nowhere.

"Good afternoon!" it said. The voice was of an elderly man, yet Harry looked everywhere.

"Hello, there," said Mr. Weasley. Ginny nudged Harry, who was still looking nonplussed, and saw where she was pointing. He nearly leapt backwards in shock. Things normally didn't shock him, having gotten used to most things wizard. But in the middle of the gates, where a lock might have been, appeared a face.

"Names?" the gate asked.

"You've got to be kidding me," Harry whispered.

"Oh my…" Hermione gasped, her eyes wide with amusement.

"This is Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger," Mr. Weasley said promptly. There was a soft metallic click, and then the gates swung wide.

"Have a pleasant day!" said the gate as they all passed, smiling wearily at them.

"I suppose next we're to meet the Cheshire Cat?" Harry said jokingly. Hermione began to laugh, but the Weasleys simply looked around at each other, unsure. "It's a book…" he said. "Alice in Wonderland…. Oh never mind," he muttered. But as he walked forward, all of his frustration left him at once, and was replaced by awe. In front of him stood a most beautiful scene. A small cottage, like one out of a fairytale, was sitting delicately in a dainty clearing, surrounded by flowers and lush trees. Over to the far right, was a large lake, beside the lake was an altar so magnificent, he was surprised it wasn't the first thing he noticed. Fairies and strange floating puffs of what seemed like colored smoke wafted about. Little rainbows were drawing themselves over the lake continuously, and the trees seemed to be alive with giggling, as if they were enjoying the event as well.

Set beside the cottage, which he noticed people were milling in and out of, was a large stage, where some of the most enchanting music was being performed. Harps, flutes, drums, all mixed to make one soft melody, to which words were added to by a gorgeous young woman. In fact, gorgeous was a huge understatement. She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. He had to talk to her, impress her. Before he knew it, he was walk/running towards her.

"Harry!" said an annoyed voice, and his arm was grabbed by a firm hand. He turned to see a furious Ginny. He realized what he'd been doing, and winced. He was heartened, however, to see that he wasn't alone. Ron was looking at the girl while Hermione ranted in his non-comprehending face.

"Uh…sorry. I was just…the uh…cottage…it's so nice…" he said uncomfortably. Ginny smirked.

"A little too nice," she said with her lips pursed. Harry gave a sheepish grin, but it was quickly knocked from him, as was the air from his lungs, as a small girl ran to him and threw her arms around his waist. He looked down in horror, at a small blonde head.

"'Arry!" the girl said, and she looked up at him, her delicate face graced with a smile. He recognized her as Fleur's sister.

"Gabrielle!" Harry said warmly, prying the girl off of him.

"Oh, I've meesed you so much!" she glowed.

"Hello," Ginny said pointedly. Gabrielle looked up at her for a second, then back to Harry.

"'I've seen you een zee papers," she said, ignoring Ginny's huff of indignation. Harry sent her an apologetic look, but she rolled her eyes. "Eez it true? You are, zee Chosen One?"

"Uh…. I don't know about being a Chosen One," Harry hedged uncertainly. "Are you excited for your sister?" he said, more to distract her than actually caring.

"Oh yes. She 'as made a wonderful choice! Though 'e isn't very 'andsome. Not like you…."

"Er…right," Harry said, very aware of Ginny's mutinous glare on the side of his head. "Well, it was good seeing you again," he said. She smiled and nodded. Giving him another hug, she floated off to stand with her mother.

"I see she takes after her sister," Ginny said wryly. "Come on, there are refreshments in the cottage," she said forcefully, and took his arm, leading him away rather more angrily than was necessary. He allowed it, however, being too busy looking around him. To his surprise, he knew most of the people there. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arabella Figg, Charlie Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody and the rest of the Order were littered among the Veela that Harry guessed were Fleur's family. Also Hagrid and Madame Maxine were taking up a rather large amount of space as they attempted to waltz to the lovely music that, now that Harry was closer, he saw was played by Wood Nymphs.

Upon entering the cottage, he realized that it must have been magicked to be much larger on the inside than it looked on the outside, for now its size resembled that of the Great Hall in Hogwarts. It was almost as crowded inside as it was out. House-Elves tottered around, offering punch and tiny sandwiches on silver platters.

"Can't wait to see the look on Hermione's face when she sees that," Harry muttered to Ginny, who grinned.

"Hey look!" she whispered suddenly, pointing to a corner of the room, where two people looked as if they weren't having the least bit of fun. Lupin and Tonks were sitting together, not talking, but occasionally throwing sorrowful looks at one another. "I think we know why Tonks was crying earlier."

"Yeah…" Harry whispered. "Come on," he said then as he saw Lupin notice his staring.

"I wonder-" Ginny began to speak, but a large bang resounded outside, and screams could be heard. Hary's heart thundered to a crash. No…today was supposed to be a happy day. Nothing should ruin it. He saw Ginny's eyes widening to as she realized that certainly, an attack was being made on them. Harry grabbed her hand in haste, and made his way outside with Ginny right on his heels.

Pushing through the throng of people, he finally was able to get outside in time to see a huge firework zooming around in the air. It began painting a scene on the blue canvas the sky presented. The picture featured Bill and Fleur holding hands and smiling at one another, and was done in a very cartoon-like style. Next, went up a second firework that quickly wrote the words, "Happy Wedding Day!" in bright pink. Finally, a third firework zoomed into the air, and exploded with such force, Harry felt the heels of his shoes quake. Red and silver confetti shot through the air, sprinkling like rain on top of them all, who were now applauding at the wild display.

Harry was laughing too, as two figures suddenly Apparated in front of the crowd, identical to the last detail, and both sporting huge, sloppy grins.

"Those two are the limit," Ginny said through a laugh, even as she clapped along with everyone else.

"Fast Font Fireworks!" the two said to the crowd. "Only five galleons each! A bargain!" But before they could do anymore advertising, Mrs. Weasley stormed over, berating them, and shaking her finger at them. They brushed it off, however, and hugged her quickly before leaving her standing with her finger still in the air while they took orders from various customers.

Harry shook his head, still getting over the fright. "That scared me half to death," he said with a laugh.

"You should have seen your face!" said Ron's voice from behind him. Harry turned to see him and Hermione.

"He had every reason to-" Hermione said, though she was also grinning.

"Running out of that house like a madman!" Ron howled, grasping his knees.

"Well, I'm glad you think it's so funny," Harry said dryly, ignoring him. But then Hermione became tense.

"Look!" she whispered. She was looking up at the stage, where Harry noticed the Veela girl had stopped singing, and had given the microphone up to an extremely tall, blonde man. He was thin nosed, fair-complexioned, and had a very familiar air about him.

"That must be Fleur's dad," Ron whispered. And Harry noticed the resemblances soon, realizing that Ron was quite right.

"Excuse me," he said, and Harry wasn't surprised to hear that he had a very light, airy voice. "May I have your attention? Up here, please."

The noise in the crown lessened, and soon all faces were turned towards him.

"Thank you," he said silkily. "Now, first of all I'd like to welcome old friends, and new friends alike. This bond between two people could not have been more unexpected, nor could it have been more perfect. So if I could please just ask you all to progress to an area that has been set up behind the house, here. Seats have been assigned to you, and we have quite a few House-Elves that would be most happy to help you find your seat." Hermione gave a hearty sniff of disgust at this point. "Thank you."

"Come on," Ginny said, and they began to move along with the huge, bustling crowd. Pushing and shoving, they finally managed to sit in their seats without too much hassle. There was without a doubt a great amount of excitement, and a fair amount of curiosity too. It hadn't gone unnoticed that nobody had seen hide or hair of the bride or groom. The chairs they sat in faced the flower-covered altar, perched on the edge of the glistening sapphire lake.

Fifteen minutes passed slowly, and then a portly wizard came forward and stood at the altar. Harry could only guess he would be the man marrying them. Then he jumped in his seat, along with quite a few other people, as loud music played from the stage. Harry, who had been expecting the usual wedding song, got quite a shock. It was a song he'd never heard before. Then again, he thought, he'd never been to a wizard's wedding before either.

He began looking around for any sign of the bride and groom, but none was to be found, until a few gasps and some pointing brought his attention to a small but glistening boat in the lake. It glided softly to them, cutting through the water as if it were a beautiful fabric. Harry craned his neck, and saw that inside the boat was Bill and Fleur. They were dressed magnificently, and Fleur was absolutely breath-taking. Well, Harry thought, not as breath-taking as Ginny….

"Oh wow," he heard Hermione whisper softly. The sight before them was so relaxing, and very sweet. When the boat reached the land, Fleur and Bill got out, holding hands and smiling. Together they walked up to the beginning of the aisle. Harry, who wasn't quite sure what they were going to do, watched with baited breath. After a while, as he swallowed, he became aware that he was actually quite chilly.

The bride and groom began to walk down the aisle together, smiling still more brilliantly, Bill's scarred face as handsome as ever in Fleur's eyes. Harry wrapped his arms around himself as goosebumps raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Squinting his eyes, he tried to see the wedding procedures through a newfound fog.

All seemed to grow very quiet, and Harry looked around to see that it had gotten very dark. He let out a breath of air that shimmered in front of him. He looked at Ginny, who was shivering next to him, looking up in the sky with terror written all over her face. Not a single soul moved. It was as if the entire world had turned to silent ice. Shivering uncontrollably, he slowly looked upwards. His gaze landed on what he had known was coming, yet didn't want to believe it.

Floating above them, coating the air and sky with a curtain of melancholy, was Harry's worst nightmare, in the shape of hundreds of Dementors. Their faceless forms floated above, and all happiness was sucked from within him. As he stared up into the whispy shapes, his heart did a thundering race as he heard Ginny drop out of her chair next to him.

"No…" Harry whispered faintly as a high-pitched screaming filled his ears. "NO!"


End file.
